


Dream Wolf

by Rosie_Dayze



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Love, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Dayze/pseuds/Rosie_Dayze
Summary: The Dread Wolf visits you in your dreams.
Relationships: Solas/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Dream Wolf

It’s a dream. You know it’s a dream, but that doesn’t keep you from sinking further into it. The heady scent of water and ferns beckons, impossible to resist. You slip away from the familiar feel of your sheets, from the sounds of your room settling; and fall into the depths of the Fade. 

The ethereal realm embraces you like an old friend, and why not? It is here where memories are made and they are all you have. Memories of hope, of war, of survival, but most of all there are memories of love. For a moment you let yourself be distracted by some of the better ones, the ones that make you laugh. Unable to help yourself, you walk through a field of what once was, lingering in the places you cared for most. You know that a spirit of kindness dances at the edge of your consciousness, but you don’t mind. After all, he taught you to see the aspects of the Fade rather than the fear of it. 

As if summoned, the field of memories solidifies beneath you. The murky land becomes a green grotto, filled with the scent that called to you in the first place. Ferns and grasses form a delicate hill. A waterfall feeds a pool of crystalline water. Mist forms on the surface. It is all too easy to kneel at its edge, touch the cool surface. Your hand disrupts the mist, and it curls around your wrist. For all it is a dream, it feels gloriously real. 

A different spirit, ephemeral as a wisp, follows you here. The weight of its presence tugs at you, demands your attention. At the very edge of your vision a shape forms in the mist. A dog, you think at first, but honestly you know better. It is a Wolf, dark and proud and beautiful. It’s paws, twice the size of your hand with fingers splayed, make divots in the soft earth.

For a moment, your eyes linger on the bestial shape. Not out of fear, but hope. Your heart gives a painful lurch in your chest. You cannot count the days since you saw him last. Anger and hope war within you. Some days you wish you could forget him entirely. Some days you cling to his memory. 

The mist coalesces. It grows thick and impenetrable. The wolf disappears behind its curtain. For a miserable moment you think he might, yet again, be gone. 

“Wait!” you cry. “No!”

You surge to your feet, throwing yourself into the mist. Blindly, you run through it. Your feet cross water and grass and bark and rock. Curtains of mist give way to curtains of velvet. Natural rock becomes worked stone. When the mist clears you are back in your room at Skyhold, and you are alone. 

Hope gives way to anger. Anger gives way to grief. You collapse on your bed and tears, unwanted and hot, stain your pillow. The soft light of day fades into deepest night. 

“Vhenan?” 

The single word, softly spoken, rouses you from your turmoil. With a gasp, you roll over and stare into the night. 

A long, lanky male figure stands there; silhouetted by the stars. He wears a simple, nearly translucent jerkin and green breeches, sewn to the very shape of his legs. 

“Solas?” you ask, wondering if this too is a dream. 

He steps forward, some trick of light reveals his face in inches. The dip in his chin. The perfect bow of his lips, ever curved in a knowing smile. The light of his eyes. On and on it goes, from ear tip to the hairless crown.

“Tell me your here, that this isn’t a dream.” 

He tilts his head to one side, the wolf-jaw necklace slithers over his chest. 

“Of course it is a dream,” he says. “But that does not make it worth any less.” 

You kneel on the edge of your bed, much like you did the pool. You want to run to him, yell at him, kiss him. You want answers and promises. You want so many things all at once that it leaves you frozen in place. 

“What do you want?” you finally ask. The words come out harsh. 

His head dips. The light in his eyes fade, and the smile along with it. 

“Forgiveness.” 

You are so startled by the admission you lunge out of bed. Anger spurns your steps. You close the distance between the two of you in two long strides. 

“Oh? Is that all?” 

“Your anger is warranted, Vhenan. But I would like to remind you that I warned you. I told you that this would be easier if we didn’t.” 

He had, but the ring of truth doesn’t make it easier to swallow. 

“Easier for who?” you spit. 

“For us both.” 

You aren’t sure if it’s his words or the single tear that comes with it that has your temper cooling. He had told you, he had resisted. You had pushed and what wolf can resist the love you offered. 

“You left,” you say, shoulders sagging. 

“I am here now.” His hand reaches up, the warmth of his fingers glides over your cheek. 

“For how long?” 

“As long as you can stay asleep.” 

Your eyes close as his fingers curl beneath your chin. He tilts your head back and his lips glide against your own. 

In your anger at being left you have kissed others, tried to tell yourself that it was just as good, but you know that you were lying to yourself. The press of Solas’ mouth to yours makes you melt against him. The flick of his tongue drives the strength from your knees. He wraps a slim, strong arm around your back, holding you to him as he deepens the kiss even further. 

By all the gods, Forgotten and Old, his mouth tastes of rain and honey. His tongue dives against yours, retreats and dives again. The arm around your back tightens, pulling you closer. Your body flatbed against his as you feel the sweep of his teeth skim against your lower lip. 

“Vhenan,” he growls against your mouth. “I crave you.” 

It’s hard to open your eyes. You feel drunk, intoxicated by the feel of him so close. 

“Then taste me,” you whisper. 

You feel him tense and hesitate. Your eyes snap open and you see the glitter of his eyes at war. He wants to stay, you realize, but even now he is telling himself it’s the wrong thing to do. 

Not this time, you tell yourself. Not tonight. If this is to be your dream, it will be one worth remembering. 

With a motion you slide your hands down his chest, exploring the thinness of his tunic, and the hard body that lies beneath. For a moment your hands settle on his hips, your thumbs curling inwards to frame the shape of him beneath his breeches. You push the fabric down, tightening it as you go to your toes and muzzle against his neck like a beast. 

“Do not leave me tonight,” you murmur. You close your eyes again, letting the tip of your tongue trace the line of his neck. “Give me what we both crave.” 

With another sound he sweeps you up in his arms, carrying you the short distance back to your bed. You open your eyes in time to see his hands grip the edge of his tunic. In one fluid motion he peels it off and banished it to the other side of the room. Half naked, he prowls over you, his necklace skimming against your chest as he leans down to kiss you again. 

“You are to be my undoing then?” 

You smile, and wrap your legs around his hips. “Since you’ve been mine, it seems only fair.” 

He holds back for one more moment, his hands rooted to the pillows behind you. You see that struggle in his eyes light, and then, as his gaze sweeps across you, he relinquishes himself to his own need. 

He falls upon you like a wolf. His mouth goes from your neck to your collar and down. With a snarl he yanks your bedclothes up and off, sending them to join his own. He allows himself one look at you laid out before him before his mouth dips to your chest. He tastes you like a beast, licking and nipping like a man gone mad. 

“Solas,” you cry as the heat rises in your body. He seems to feel it, sense it, following it down the length of your body until he settles between your thighs. 

“Do you still wish for me to taste you?” he asks, his breath spilling against you. An answer springs to your tongue but there is something about the way he looks up at you, eyes filled with animalistic hunger. It sends a thrill through you that has no name. 

Your response is a moan, and lifting your hips towards him. 

His fingers, which seem sharper than normal, yank the last of your clothing away, leaving you naked before him. Before your body can settle back against the bed his hands wrap around your thighs, shoving them apart. You have one mindless moment of being bare and exposed before his tongue descends on you. 

The dread wolf can be a gentle lover, you are sure of it. But there is nothing gentle about the way his mouth savages at you. His tongue seems to make way for lips and teeth. A part of you knows that it ought to hurt, but nothing but pleasure rolls through you as he eats you like a beast. 

You want to wrap your legs around him, but his hands keep you pinned to the mattress. The sheets catch and ripple beneath you as your back arches, as your hands fist in them. Your moans of pleasure mingle with his as he focuses on the apex of your need. He is relentless, and you can’t help but give in. 

A wet, heavy weight builds in the place where his tongue and teeth play. His lips form a kiss and he sucks the tender parts of you between them as he releases one of your thighs. His fingers plunge into you, and he makes a satisfied sound at finding the depths of your wetness. He crooks his fingers, pressing against the wild heat that is building within you. He makes another sound, and you know that he is demanding you to give in. 

You hold back. You want to give in, but he made you wait this long, it seems only fair that you make him wait too. 

His eyes roll upwards, watching you from his place between your thighs. You see a question in them, and then realization. They narrow and he scoops his free hand beneath you, curling your body up as he tucks himself beneath you. With your legs over his shoulders he redoubles his efforts, and feasts. 

It is a strange dichotomy, this precise man with his cunning intellect and careful speech. To see him worry at your most tender parts like a beast awakes something primal inside you. His font gets curve against your pleasure, and every move of your hips grinds against his mouth. 

“Yes,” he growls against you. “Let me taste your need.” 

You don’t know if it is the crook of his fingers, the lewdness of his words, or the way his mouth moves against you but that ball of pleasure within you shivers, cracks, and spills. Your high rips through you, primal and wild, drawing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you could make. 

With a snarl of satisfaction he glares up at you. 

“Withholding from me?” He asks. 

You are to breathless to speak, your mind still dealing from the dwindling energy of your orgasm. You manage a halfhearted shrug. 

“We shall see.” 

His long fingers wrap over your hips. With one deft movement he scoots back and sends you tumbling to your knees. He seizes your legs and pulls, lifting your backside into the air. He licks across one cheek, ending with a deft bite. You make another sound and his hands slither over the lines of your body, sculpting as he lifts himself over you, licking a line up your spine. 

“Need,” he said the single word like a growl, a prayer. 

“Take,” you invite. 

You feel him shiver, his breath in your ear as his body lowers over the back of yours. His lips run along the line of your neck as his hand darts between your bodies to yank at his breeches. You feel the hard length of him press against you. He rolls his hips, grinding against you. He curses in a form of elven so old that you can’t follow it. 

“What?” 

He pants and then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Wet,” he snarls, half desperate, half possessive. 

The mattress shifts beneath your body as his hands slide over your hips. He slides back, lining the tip of him with the entrance of you, and then thrusts forward, sheathing him inside of you in one swift movement. There is no hesitation. His thrusts are deep, desperate, needful. He curls one arm beneath your body, hand over your shoulder, holding you in place as he shoves himself into you over and over again. But you know, even now, that he is holding back. 

“Yes,” you croon. “Solas, yes!” You arch, pushing your hips back in ardent invitation. 

“Vhenan,” he growls at you, holding you still. “Do that again and I will not be held accountable for how I react.” 

With a smile on your lips, you shove against him. 

“I said ‘take‘.” 

He sits back, still rooted inside of you. His hands skimming their way down your sides. He grips your hips, fingers curling right enough to make you hiss. He moves back, pulling until only the tip of him is still rooted inside of you. 

“As you say.”

Take he does. His hands hold you still as he starts to pound. He moved hard, taking his pleasure of you with a wild, primal joy. He mutters under his breath phrases to old and crude for you to understand. It’s hard to hold yourself against the desperate pillaging of his need. As you start to dip forward he grabs your hair, fisting it in one hand and pushing you against your mattress. 

“Harder,” you moan into the sheets. 

He lets out a sound, a growl and then a howl. The tips of his finger dig into one hip, leaving bruises behind. You croon your pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you. The very end of him reaching your wet depth. 

“Vhenan!” He cries, letting you know that he is close. 

You reach back, wrapping your hand around his wrist. You feel the tendons beneath your fingers flex as his wild rhythm reaches a new depth.

“Yes, Solas, yes!” 

With a last wild thrust he empties himself inside of you. He throws his head back and howls like the wolf he is as his hips twitch with his own pleasure. He cries your name at the last of it, just before he sags over you. 

Your legs, already pushed to their limits, collapse. The two of you tumble to the bed, getting lost amid the mess of sheets. You expect him to pull away, to leave now that he’s had his full and you’ve had yours. But instead, surprising you both, his arm slides tenderly around you middle, he curls behind you, placing a kiss on the shoulder that he bit. 

“Forgive me,” he whispers. 

“Whatever for?” 

He hesitates. “There will be marks.” 

You smile and curl closer. “Stay with me until the dream ends, and all will be forgiven.” 

He pulls you closer, tucking himself in the curve of you. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” 

“I love you too.”


End file.
